


The Mug Shot

by smittenbritain



Series: RT Writing Community Secret Santa [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, M/M, RT Writing Community, Secret Santa, accidental confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenbritain/pseuds/smittenbritain
Summary: By day, Jeremy ran a coffee shop:The Mug Shot, his pride and joy.By night, he ran with the Fake AH Crew. They were a welcoming family and an escape.It made dating a little difficult, though, to be torn between the two halves of his life - especially when his heart couldn't decide between Vagabond or Ryan.





	The Mug Shot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smallzita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallzita/gifts).



> My Secret Santa gift for Zita! I hope you enjoy <3

The best smell in the world was freshly ground coffee beans.

Jeremy had always thought so, anyway. It promised the comfort of a warm drink, the feeling of being wrapped up in a cosy blanket - and, of course, a nice burst of energy to keep him going. There was nothing quite like it, not that Jeremy had discovered anyway. It was soothing in a way that little else was.

It had made perfect sense, then, to open up a coffee shop.

He’d been lucky with the location - one of the better areas of Los Santos had had the _perfect_ place for sale - and, so far, he’d been fortunate with the staff. Hell, even the customers hadn’t given him too much trouble over the years; Jeremy couldn’t recall a single time he’d had to call the cops to _The Mug Shot_ \- though they certainly liked to show up for his coffee and doughnuts, and have a good chuckle about the name of the place while they were there. It was amusing every time Officer Luna passed through for his morning latte, playfully warning Jeremy to stay in line so he wouldn’t have any reason to drag him in for a _real_ mugshot.

Officer Luna was still laughing on his way out, his arm around his partner's shoulders. They had to duck to the side with an apology to let another man through, though they quickly continued on their way, seeming far more boisterous than any other cops in Los Santos. Jeremy couldn’t help wondering where they got their energy from, because it certainly wasn't his coffee.

The man approached the counter, and as Jeremy met his gaze, a warm smile spread across his face. “Morning.”

“Mornin’, Ryan,” Jeremy replied. “The usual?”

“Please.”

Jeremy set about his familiar routine, and as he handed Ryan his bagel, he grinned at him and said, “I’d ask if you come here often, but…”

“You already know that,” Ryan agreed, laughing. The sound lit up a bright bubble of warmth in Jeremy’s chest, and as it diffused out through his body, it left the same lingering buzz that a good cup of coffee did. “Every morning, really.”

“Almost every morning,” Jeremy corrected. He turned to get started on Ryan’s hot chocolate, sneakily snagging the jar of marshmallows on his way.

“Almost every morning,” he repeated behind Jeremy. He heard the crinkle of the wrapper as Ryan freed his bagel; when it was Ryan, Jeremy didn’t mind him indulging before he’d paid. “Didn’t realise you were keepin’ tabs on me.”

The machine dripped the last few drops of hot chocolate into Ryan’s cup, and with a few extra touches - marshmallows, whipped cream, some chocolate sprinkles - Jeremy turned around to set it before him with a smile. He sealed the lid before Ryan could see the little surprises he’d added in for him. “Excuse me for checkin’ in on my favourite customer,” Jeremy replied smoothly, turning to tap numbers into the register. Across the room, he caught his best friend and employee, Matt, giving him a look - a capital L _Look_ \- but he ignored him in favour of chatting to Ryan.

“I’m your favourite?” Ryan looked almost a little shy - or, he would have, if it weren’t for the cheeky glint in his eyes. “I bet you say that to all the boys, Jeremy.”

Jeremy ignored the telltale heat in his cheeks. There was no way he was giving Ryan - or, for that matter, Matt - any more ammo. “Nope, just you, Rye. I’ve only got one favourite.”

“Then I’m flattered.” Ryan slid him some money for his breakfast, and promptly dropped the change in the tip jar once Jeremy handed it over. “There. _That’s_ for being my favourite barista.”

He left shortly after, his hot chocolate and his half finished bagel in hand, and Jeremy watched him with a lingering eye. He felt more than saw Matt scoot up next to him, and immediately prepared himself for the teasing that was sure to follow. Jeremy knew he wasn’t the most subtle in the world, but Matt just _knew_ Jeremy well enough to spot a crush a mile off.

“You’re so fucked,” he said simply.

Jeremy folded his arms onto the counter and slumped over them with a groan. “I know.”

* * *

The best smell in the world _wasn’t_ actually freshly ground coffee beans.

It shared the title with another: gunpowder.

Jeremy didn’t just run a coffee shop - he ran with the Fake AH Crew.

At _The Mug Shot,_ he was relaxed, casual, a joker. He could be himself without worrying, even when the cops showed up on a regular basis; they had never suspected that _he_ was Rimmy Tim, even when there had occasionally been pieces of evidence staring right at them. Jeremy couldn’t imagine that they had simply ignored the small smear of purple and orange paint on his forearms a few months ago, not when Rimmy Tim had painted his version of the FAHC logo across a wall that very same day.

And yet, his identity remained a secret, even from his crew. He was lucky that they weren’t the kind to press each other on their personal lives too hard; they all kept their identities secret, only knowing each other by codename. All except Geoff, anyway, who shamelessly promoted himself as the leader of the Fake AH Crew. It was impressive, to say the least, though it couldn’t convince Jeremy to go public even if Geoff tried.

So Jeremy dressed himself up in bright colours, indulged in a stronger Boston twang, and donned a mask, all in an effort to keep his two lives separate.

Vagabond made things a little more difficult.

He was nothing like all the rumours made him out to be, and _that_ was the problem.

Given that all the public had to go on was a mask, they had taken more than a few creative liberties with the myths and legends surrounding the man - but it was all so laughably wrong. Vagabond wasn’t creepy or menacing, not like the dark skull mask implied; no, he was sweet and silly and had an adorable laugh. He kept his identity a closely guarded secret, of course, but it wasn’t uncommon to see him shove up his mask to nose-level so he could take a bite out of the doughnut he walked in with. Once, Jeremy had even seen him stick a straw underneath it so he could sip at his Diet Coke, and it had startled a high-pitched laugh out of him that made the corners of Vagabond’s eyes crinkle under his mask.

It had been an instant connection, and Jeremy knew he was a little bit fucked - and despite having twin crushes on Ryan and Vagabond, Jeremy wasn’t hopeful that he’d get anywhere with either of them.

As much as Jeremy adored having his dual lifestyle, it wore on him in matters like this. He couldn’t justify asking to take Ryan on a date when it could potentially place him in danger and would, more than likely, only end in heartbreak - and he couldn’t ask Vagabond either with how they all kept themselves hidden. It was one hell of a double edged sword, one that Jeremy’s heart had stoically ignored until he found himself in this situation. His love life hadn’t occurred to him when he’d decided to take up a life of crime to fund his coffee shop.

* * *

And yet, as his gun jerked in his hands and the scent of gunpowder filled his nostrils, Jeremy’s heart jumped in time with Vagabond’s quiet laugh beside him. It was a sound he was well accustomed to by now, made even more familiar by the ring of police sirens in the background.

It had started off as a simple job: get in, make the deal, get the guns, get out.

It never worked out that easily with the Fake AH Crew.

The dealer never showed, but the cops certainly did. Now that they were on the run, Jeremy had a hunch that they’d been set up, maybe even sold out just so the other gang could get a little bit of a payout from the police. Well, that was a perfectly good weapons dealer scratched off the list. They’d been reliable for a while, too.

As annoying as it was, though - and Geoff would certainly be pissed when he realised that they’d been betrayed like that - it was kind of worth the hassle to get some time with Vagabond.

Their bond was a foundation for a dangerous pairing. That immediate click promised them a damn good time, and it assured hell for anyone who stood in the way of their escape - specifically only the escape, though; not one person in the crew was fond of the idea of harming innocents, cop or not. Jeremy only allowed himself a couple more warning shots back at the docks - aimed to trip them up, never to kill - before he dashed out after Vagabond, hot on his heels as they tore down the streets.

They only made it a few blocks before the sirens grew louder again.

“Fuck,” Jeremy hissed. “Fuck, we’re never gonna outrun ‘em.”

“I know,” Vagabond panted. He sharply turned to tuck them into an alley, tugging Jeremy in after him by the elbow. Jeremy’s upper arm knocked into the wall next to Vagabond with a grunt, and he would’ve been irritated if it hadn’t been for the cop car that screeched past the alley mere seconds later. “We need somewhere to hide.”

They were too close to headquarters for there to be any hideouts waiting for them, so that was out. Jeremy knew this area of Los Santos well - too well, uncomfortably well for when he was in his Rimmy Tim outfit - but all he could think of were the various shops and stores that lined the streets here: gift shops, a couple of clothing stores, a liquor store -

His own.

Sirens again, circling back towards them.

_Fuck._

“I know a place.”

It was too stupid, too obvious. Vagabond would know he was connected to it in some way with how confidently Jeremy led them down the back, following the alleyway until they reached what was, to him, a familiar backdoor. He could only hope that Vagabond wouldn’t look too far into it.

Jeremy crouched down in front of the keyhole and reached into his pocket. He drew out his key, but didn’t open up straight away; no, he was going to pretend to pick the lock.

He doubted that he’d be able to fool Vagabond, of all people, but it was worth a shot.

Once the door clicked open, Jeremy straightened up and headed inside, avoiding Vagabond’s gaze as he headed down the hallway. His office, barely used, was on his left, and Jeremy remained as stoic as he could when his own name stared back at him from the door. For once, he was thoroughly glad for his mask, even though it meant he saw purple and orange at the corners of his eyes all night.

They emerged into _The Mug Shot,_ and Jeremy paused for a moment, hit by a wave of vertigo.

He shouldn’t _be_ here, not right now. This was Jeremy space, not Rimmy Tim space. It felt wrong.

The blinds in the windows gave the shop front a quiet, muted glow; the only light that crept in was the dull yellow of the street lamps outside, and the occasional flash of red and blue as a car whizzed by. It gave the edges of the seating area a white outline, almost like they were part of some minimalistic drawing. In the corner, the coffee machines softly clicked and whirred, and there was the occasional drip as a leftover drop fell into the tray below.

It was peaceful, even though something shook with nerves in the centre of Jeremy’s chest. 

This wasn't how he'd pictured getting Vagabond - or Ryan - into his coffee shop.

“Well.” Jeremy tried not to jump as Vagabond spoke up behind him. His voice was a low murmur, further muffled by his mask. “That was surprisingly easy to get in.”

Jeremy laughed. He knew it sounded strained, but he hoped Vagabond would put it down to the stress of hiding. “Yeah. Guess they need better locks, it was way too easy.” Only because Jeremy had his own key, but he wasn’t about to advertise that fact, not when he was sure that Vagabond could hear the nervous little jumps in his voice.

And then, because he couldn’t stop himself from joking when he was anxious, he blurted out, “Y’come here often?”

Vagabond made a startled noise. When Jeremy turned, he saw blue eyes wide with shock behind the skull. “What?”

“Yeah.” Deciding to just roll with it now - it was his best shot, even though Jeremy remembered using that line on Ryan just a few days ago - Jeremy leaned against the doorframe and cocked an eyebrow. Hopefully Vagabond could decipher that much of his expression. “D’ya come here often, Vagabond?”

Something shifted in Vagabond’s posture, and he seemed to relax. The corners of his eyes crinkled in that telltale little way that Jeremy had come to adore; he was smiling, and then there was the familiar puff of his chuckle. “No,” he said, and then, adopting an equally casual pose against the opposite side of the doorframe, he added, “but that can change.”

If Jeremy hadn’t been hyper-aware of his surroundings in that moment, he might have missed the almost imperceptible change that came over the Vagabond. There was a cautious energy that Jeremy was familiar with; usually, it was directed at unwitting or particularly dangerous enemies.

It felt strange to be on the receiving end of it. Jeremy wasn’t sure if he was a fan.

“Yeah?” he prompted. Jeremy’s throat was dry enough to click when he swallowed. He rubbed his still aching arm, just to give his hands something to do.

“Well,” Vagabond began, his eyes wrinkling at the corners again, “maybe we could come here off the clock sometime.”

Jeremy stayed stunned and silent. Vagabond had just completely yanked the rug out from underneath him, and it left him floundering for a response. How was he supposed to reply to a playfully flirty conversation when it had turned into something he actually wanted? It was almost laughable how perfect it all was - the date spot, the person, the joking around - except for the main factor: they were crewmates, ones who didn’t know each other’s real identities.

And then there was lovely, sweet, _civilian_ Ryan, who didn’t know this side of his life at all. Jeremy couldn't help thinking of him, his smile, his _warmth._

Vagabond just stared at him as Jeremy stayed silent. What he could see of his expression had changed now; Jeremy thought that he looked concerned.

The sudden, sharp _whoopwhoop!_ of a siren, frighteningly close, startled both of them into action. Jeremy tore his gaze away and ignored the heat on his cheeks as he reached for his gun at his belt. “We gotta go.”

“Out the back,” Vagabond said, already holding the door open.

As they left, Jeremy paused to lock the door again - he could never be too careful in Los Santos - and if Vagabond saw, he didn’t comment on it.

* * *

It was such a relief to see Ryan’s familiar face.

Well, it was a relief for a few seconds, anyway. Jeremy felt the same warm burst in his chest when Ryan grinned at him, and then he remembered that he _shouldn’t_ feel that way.

He beamed back at Ryan anyway as the man took a seat at the bar.

“Usual?” Jeremy asked.

“Make it two,” Ryan replied. He linked his fingers under his chin, propping it up on them as he watched Jeremy.

“Expecting someone?” He turned to get the two hot chocolates started, ignoring the way his heart gave a painful little twinge at his own comment. He didn't have any claim here; he had no right to feel jealous, and he wouldn't let it colour his friendship with Ryan.

“Actually… I was hoping maybe you could take a break and join me.”

Jeremy almost choked on his own tongue.

He glanced over his shoulder at Ryan, sure his surprise was written all over his face. Ryan just kept up that innocent little smile, like he knew something Jeremy didn’t.

Licking his lips, Jeremy joked, “I don't get mine for free.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Ryan assured him.

Heart pounding, Jeremy tagged out with Steffie, leaving her behind the counter so he could, for once, sit on the other side. It was strange to realise that he’d rarely actually bought a drink from his own coffee shop - not because he took what he wanted, but he simply didn’t have the time to sit down and enjoy it. The first sip of his drink reminded him of why he’d started this place to begin with.

Ryan gently tapped his mug against Jeremy’s with a grin. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Jeremy replied, laughing quietly. The nerves started to slip away as he sat here with Ryan. There was just something so soothing about his presence. He certainly wouldn’t have done this for any other customer. “So, what’s up?”

A little shyly, Ryan took a sip of his hot chocolate again. “Maybe I just wanted the chance to get to know my favourite barista a little better.” He paused and glanced up. “As long as this isn’t overstepping any boundaries, anyway. Please, feel free to tell me to stop or leave if I’m misinterpreting things here-”

“You’re good,” Jeremy assured him immediately, ignoring the way his heart jumped into overtime at ‘misinterpreting things’. Ryan was probably just trying to be a good friend; Jeremy wasn’t going to get his hopes up.

Ryan shot him another little, nervous smile. “I just don’t want you to think you _have_ to sit down with me because I’m a customer.”

The concern was sweet, and it only sent Jeremy further down the slippery slope of his feelings. “It’s okay,” he promised, slow and with a smile. “Trust me, I’d have told you ages ago if I hated you.”

“Oh!” Ryan barked out a laugh. “Well, that’s reassuring!”

Jeremy snickered along with him, deciding to indulge himself for once. Where was the harm in sitting and chatting for a little while?

Apparently, the harm was in trying to get comfortable.

He tried to lift his arm to prop it up on the bar, but a dull ache immediately seared through his upper arm, leaving him hissing out his breath between his teeth. Carefully, Jeremy set down his mug so he could reach up and touch it, gently poking and massaging to test it.

Ryan frowned, lowering his mug. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jeremy said, shooting him a strained smile. “Just a little achy.”

He knew exactly what it was.

An impressive bruise had bloomed across Jeremy’s arm over the past few days, and he was pretty sure it had been caused by Vagabond yanking him into the alleyway. He couldn’t be too mad about it considering the move had saved his skin, though; if it hadn’t been for Vagabond, he’d be behind bars right now, most likely being bribed for his freedom, and <em>The Mug Shot</em> would be in deep, deep trouble.

Something flashed across Ryan’s face, but Jeremy wasn’t quick enough to catch what it meant. His expression smoothed out to quiet warmth and concern, and he reached out to rest his hand on Jeremy’s forearm. The touch sent an electric fizz racing across his skin.

“Well, I hope it heals up soon,” Ryan said, giving his forearm a gentle squeeze. “Hopefully, you can get some time to relax to let it rest.” He paused, and then, a little more shyly, he added, “And if you wanted to do that relaxing together, then…”

Despite all of his reservations about dating, Jeremy grinned. “Are you trying to ask me out?”

“Maybe,” Ryan admitted. He huffed out a nervous little laugh that warmed into a genuine smile as Jeremy pulled out his phone and offered it to Ryan. He tapped in his number, and then hesitantly met Jeremy’s eyes. “So, if you ever wanna relax and go out for coffee together, give me a call.”

* * *

Geoff had wanted to strike back against the crew that had tried to sold them out.

In theory, it had been a good idea. Go to their headquarters, cut them down at the source, and, most importantly, remind them and others not to fuck with the Fake AH Crew.

It didn’t go down as smoothly as any of them had hoped.

For starters, someone, somehow, had set the warehouse on fire. Jeremy didn’t know which side had started the blaze; he knew for a fact that Mogar had brought various explosives along - “Just in case,” he’d said, smiling a little too wide - but Jeremy was sure that there had been a distinct lack of trembling, cracking walls throughout this whole battle. It was entirely possible then that the other crew had decided to ditch this warehouse and start afresh.

Maybe that had been the backup plan all along.

It didn’t matter, though. All that Jeremy cared about was escaping.

He didn’t know where his crew was; he could only assume that they’d already made a break for it. Beardo had been the one to call out the fire at the first hint of smoke, and he’d seen Geoff and Golden Boy quickly whip out after him.

Mogar had been out of sight for a while.

So had Vagabond.

The thugs Jeremy had been fighting had scarpered the second they realised what was going on, vanishing into the smoke. It had left Jeremy alone, and with plenty of opportunity to make his own escape; the second their shouts had faded from earshot, Jeremy had broken into a sprint, leaping over boxes of now useless resources to find a way out.

That was easier said than done, though.

The building’s layout had seemed so simple when they’d made their attack; now it was a labyrinth. Smoke or fallen debris seemed to litter every turn. Nothing was the same as they’d left it.

It was confusing and terrifying and Jeremy was painfully aware now of the sting of smoke in his eyes, the heat in the air, the crackle of distant flames. He was trying his hardest not to panic, but it was made all the more difficult with the ominous creaking of the building around him. Jeremy was so sure that there was an exit around here _somewhere,_ he was so certain that he and Vagabond had entered this way - there was a door here, there _had_ to be -

_“Jeremy!”_

There was a panicked shout from a silhouette in the smoke. Jeremy whipped around to face it, his hand hovering over the gun at his belt - and then relaxed again when a familiar masked form rushed towards him, hand outstretched. Relief washed over him as he grabbed Vagabond’s gloved hand and followed his lead, back out into the bright, busy Los Santos evening.

It didn’t register yet that Vagabond knew his name.

They kept running for a few more feet until Jeremy stumbled to a stop, panting. He reached up to rip off his mask, more than happy to let the orange and purple plastic roll across the ground. Usually, he’d treat it with more care, but right now having free access to the open air was far more important. Jeremy tipped his head back and gulped in great breaths of the night air, savouring the way it tasted on his tongue. The shouts of the enemy crew were distant to him now; all he could hear was his own panting and the pounding of his heart.

There was a great crack behind him, and Jeremy jumped. He glanced back in time to see part of the warehouse’s roof cave in, right over the side door he and Vagabond had used. He shuddered.

Briefly, panic rose in his throat again as he thought of his crew, but it was quickly soothed as he scanned the area. Geoff was a few feet away, and gathered around him with Beardo, Mogar, and Golden Boy. They all looked a little sooty and singed, but otherwise they were perfectly fine; Jeremy would say that they even looked a little amused or frustrated with how much Geoff was hovering over them. Evidently, he hadn’t spotted Jeremy and Vagabond yet - Mogar had, though, and Jeremy caught him staring before he politely nodded and looked away from Jeremy’s bare face.

The gentle weight of Vagabond’s hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Jeremy assured him. He didn’t feel fine - his heavier Boston accent had slipped from the fear still clawing its way up into his chest, and the near death experience was certainly giving him some impulsive ideas - but even with his disguise ruined, all things considered, he was definitely a solid okay. He reached up to give Vagabond’s hand a grateful pat. “Thank you, by the way.”

“I couldn’t leave you in there,” Vagabond said quietly. “I had to go back.”

Jeremy turned to face him, just so he could stare at him. It didn’t matter that his cover was blown; he wasn’t thinking about <em>The Mug Shot</em> and his civilian life right now. He saw Vagabond’s eyes widen a little behind the mask with shock, but Jeremy didn’t think twice about that either. It was probably just because Vagabond had seen his face now.

“What the fuck?” Jeremy hissed. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

“I-”

But Jeremy ploughed on, undeterred. “That was so fucking dangerous!”

Vagabond swayed on his heels a little, looking like he was teetering on the edge of saying something. “I had my reasons-”

“Did you?” Jeremy demanded. “You could’ve fucking died in there, Vagabond, why would you do something like th-”

“Because I care about you!”

Jeremy went silent and still. His heart, which had slowed after his frantic escape, kicked up again - along with the little bit of hope he had tried (and failed) to bury. “What?”

“I care about you,” Vagabond repeated, a little more slowly. And then, after a pause, he added, “Jeremy.”

“I…” Jeremy’s body went cold with shock. “How do you know my name?”

“I figured it out,” Vagabond admitted. He seemed almost shy now, like a child caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar. His gaze was cast down at his boots now as he scuffed them against the ground, somehow managing to make himself look small.

Jeremy blinked at him. “How?”

If it was obvious, he needed to cover his tracks - and cover them fast. He hoped he wouldn’t have to explicitly ask Vagabond to keep his secret, too. That should be obvious enough.

Vagabond took in a deep breath, as if he was steeling himself - and then he reached up to grasp the back of his mask.

“Wait,” Jeremy said, holding up his hands. “You don’t have to do that, you don’t have to make it even or anything, I trust…”

He trailed off into silence as Vagabond removed his mask to reveal a familiar face.

Ryan looked up to meet his eyes again, and he offered Jeremy a hesitant little smile.

“That’s how I figured it out,” Ryan said after a pause. He rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly, accidentally smudging some soot onto his skin. “I… The voice was familiar, and you had a key already when we needed somewhere to hide, the bruised arm…” His hand dropped to his side again with a quiet thump. “I meant to ask some other way, but…”

Another thought occurred to Jeremy as Ryan went quiet again. He shifted on his feet as he tried to figure out the best way to phrase it, and then he simply tossed caution to the wind. “So when you gave me your number,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Was that to try and figure things out, or…?”

The blush that stole across Ryan’s cheeks was enough of an answer. “It was genuine,” he admitted. “I meant it when I said I care about you, Jeremy.”

“Then in that case, _Ryan,”_ Jeremy said slowly, deliberately putting emphasis on his name - it made Ryan smile, so it was worth it. “Do you wanna go out for coffee sometime?”

A familiar smile broke out on Ryan’s face, and Jeremy felt his heart flutter with new hope at the sight. “I’d love to.”


End file.
